


tell me

by amjnyard



Series: you are real [3]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Character Study, Fluff, M/M, Soft Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, this is tooth rotting sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-22 02:23:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14298696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amjnyard/pseuds/amjnyard
Summary: The first time he thinks it, Neil is just sitting there.A book’s open in his lap, a pencil gripped loosely in his hand. He’s staring out the window, with a distant expression and the setting sun has cast a gilded light across his face. He’s barely moving, save for the twitch of his pencil every few minutes and Andrew is struck dead.He’s standing in the living room, scared to move. He thinks any noise, any interruption, could shatter this delicate peace that coats the room like liquid gold. So he stands there, a mug of coffee gripped tightly, the drink slowly cooling as he forgets his bearings. His heart’s pounding, thrumming with the rush of blood in his head. He’s not sure he’s ever felt this way before.I love you I love you I love you I love you.





	tell me

**Author's Note:**

> no angst here folks, i hope u like my soft children

The first time he thinks it, Neil is just sitting there. 

A book’s open in his lap, a pencil gripped loosely in his hand. He’s staring out the window, with a distant expression and the setting sun has cast a gilded light across his face. He’s barely moving, save for the twitch of his pencil every few minutes and Andrew is struck dead. 

He’s standing in the living room, scared to move. He thinks any noise, any interruption, could shatter this delicate peace that coats the room like liquid gold. So he stands there, a mug of coffee gripped tightly, the drink slowly cooling as he forgets his bearings. His heart’s pounding, thrumming with the rush of blood in his head. He’s not sure he’s ever felt this way before. 

_I love you I love you I love you I love you._

Andrew feels dizzy with the intensity of the emotions hitting him. He feels sick. He never wants to stop feeling like this. He wants to feel normal again. He doesn’t think he can. 

Neil drops his pencil. 

He jolts, moving before Neil can see him entranced and heads towards the couch, not saying anything. Neil’s moving too, turning in the window sill to face inwards. The light of the dying sun silhouettes him, a shadow outlined with gold. 

Neil clears his throat, already returning to his restless self. He drums his pencil against the textbook, a constant motion. He doesn’t say anything, and Andrew settles into the sofa, trying to shake off the restless feeling that’s crawled into his bones. Still, the mantra is pounding along with his blood. 

_I love you I love you I love you I love you._

Eventually, Neil gets up. He comes towards Andrew, features still concealed by the shadows. They have at least two more lamps than any person could ever need, and still the name falls into black as the flickering light of the sun eventually gives out. 

“It’s going to start getting cold soon,” Neil says, after at least an hour has passed. Andrew had eventually conceded to his straining eyes’ pleas and turned on a light. He’s curled under a blanket, a book open on his lap and glasses shoved askew. 

The window’s still open and a cool breeze is drifting in. Neil’s sitting on the ground, having mercilessly worked his way through a packet of equations and he leans back against the sofa, head next to Andrew. 

“Has it not already?” Andrew replies, flicking the back of Neil’s head. He makes a noise of discontent, but angles his body more towards Andrew. His neck must be strained in that position, Andrew muses, but he thinks he might appreciate the effort anyhow. 

Neil gives as best of a shrug as he can, closing his eyes for a moment. The breeze ruffles his hair and Andrew feels his chest constrict. “You’re always colder than most,” Neil finally says and Andrew snorts. Neil’s eyes open and the hint of a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Scouts honor.”

“Shut up,” Andrew grumbles, no heat to his retort and flips a page. Neil makes another noise, settling back against the sofa. He must drift off, because the sound of his breathing evens out and for a while, the only sound in the room is the rustle of the pages, the blow of the wind against the window pane and the steady sound of Neil’s breathing. 

In this darkness, all their pains and scars hidden away under long summer nights and the speed of practice and the grind of school, Andrew thinks he might be learning how to piece himself together again. He’s almost drifted off into a sleep himself when Neil starts. 

“Andrew?” He asks, voice young and unguarded. Andrew’s heart is pounding, a sick crawling feeling creeping up his spine as millions of thoughts race through his head at once. 

He doesn’t say anything, puts a hand on Neil’s shoulder. Neil’s entire body is tense, but he loosens with Andrew’s touch, every inch of tension draining out of him. Neil doesn’t say anything, but Andrew knows what he’s trying to say. 

Andrew thinks, blindly wildly insanely, that this fierce rush inside of him could be love. 

They must fall asleep like that, because the next thing he knows, Andrew’s laying flat on the sofa, book on the ground and hand dangling off the sofa. Neil’s clattering around in the kitchen and Andrew can smell coffee. The tips of his fingers are cold and the window is still open, cold light filtering through. 

He grumbles, rolls over. Pulls his hand under the warmth of the blanket. He hears Neil come back into the room. “Comfortable?” Neil asks, a laugh woven into his voice and Andrew wrangles his hand free to flip him off. 

“‘S fuckin’ cold,” he slurs, burying his face into the pillow. “Shut the fucking window,” he commands, trying to get comfortable again. 

“I went on a run and it was nice,” Neil responds, making no move to shut the window. 

“I hate you,” Andrew snarls, turning around, finally giving up any pretense of sleeping. Neil’s sitting cross legged on the ground, gloves and two pairs of socks on. He’s wearing that godawful orange sweatshirt and is cradling a cup of coffee. His face has the soft open look he gets in the morning and Andrew wishes he could hate him. “You fucking liar,” he grumbles, pulling himself up and wrapping the blanket around him like a cape. 

He goes to shut the window, the glass icy to the touch and Andrew wonders if this weather will last much longer. Neil’s quiet behind him and instead of shutting the window, Andrew rummages around on the desk for a pack of cigs. 

The cold air is waking him up and Andrew finds himself not minding it as much. He’s still freezing, but the cold is grounding. It seeps into his bones and reminds him he’s alive. He takes a drag of his cigarette, hears Neil come up behind him. 

“Coffee?” Neil asks, hushed, like he’s scared to break the peace. Andrew holds out his free hand in acceptance and Neil gently hands him the mug, snatching the cig from his other hand. They go back and forth like that for a while, and Andrew finds he doesn’t mind the simple monotony. They’ll have to go to class eventually, or practice, or someone will eventually come looking for them. 

But for now, it’s just them and the morning. He feels Neil move behind him, brushing against him as he wedges himself into the windowsill, directly in front of Andrew. He’s staring out the window again, like the semi-terrible view of campus holds the answer to all of his questions. 

Andrew feels that reckless impulse again. _I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you._

He can’t keep it in and he can’t say anything. But Andrew’s never been one to hide what he feels and he knows this isn’t any different. He needs Neil to know. He needs someone to know. “Hey,” he says and Neil shifts slightly to fit Andrew into his line of sight. 

Andrew waits a beat, needing Neil’s full attention. “Hey,” he says again and Neil’s completely focused on him now. “I love you,” he says, quietly, like the words are going to shatter something irreplaceable between the two of them. 

Neil tilts his head, like he’s considering it. His whole body is still, lines of tension and muscle drawn. Flight or fight instinct. Andrew is well acquainted with it. He reaches out for Andrew and Andrew lets himself be pulled closer. Neil methodically stubs out his cigarette. _I love you I love you I love you I love you._ "I love you."

At first, Andrew thinks he’s spoken out loud, but Neil’s giving him that open expression and Andrew knows he isn’t hearing things. Neil tugs him closer, impossibly close, slotting them together. “I might not say it again,” Andrew warns, knows he’s lying to himself. 

Neil huffs a laugh, tilts his chin up and Andrew kisses him, slow steady like they have all the time in the world. Neil tastes like bitter coffee and the smoke of cigarettes and every inch of him is inexplicably familiar and foreign at the same time. 

They pull apart slowly, still breathing in the same space. Neil’s hushed when he speaks. “Wanna get breakfast?” 

Andrew thinks of ordering waffles, pouring an inhumane amount of syrup on them. He thinks of watching Neil’s face contort in disgust and thinks of the lecture he’ll get about eating well during the season. 

“Sure,” he says.

**Author's Note:**

> for more follow me @amjnyard on tumblr


End file.
